The Journal Of George Weasley
by Hopeful Puppy
Summary: At war, without his brother, George addresses his absent twin in his journal. These last few pages were all Harry dared to read over his brother-figure's shoulder. After all, he knows, he'll never understand the bond between Gred and Feorge. Even in the trying times of the Second World War. Actual entry is short, so please skim it and give an opinion.
1. Rumours, 12th of April 1945

_****_**We were told we were doing Diary Enteries for English class, and given the prompt below. It orginal idea started out as just a soldier writing in his journal. But when I'm writing a diary entry for class I usually give the diary/journal a name, which this time just happened to be Fred and it kinda went from there. One of my friends read it and really liked it, even though it wasn't finished at the time, so I thought I would put it up. It's longer and slightly different to the original, so if you want me to put up the original just let me know and I will. Hope you enjoy!**

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_**Prompt: "If you are reading this I may well be dead, for today I will claim my freedom and dignity. This trip has almost broken me..."**_

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12th of April 1945.

Fred,

Last night, the regiments Commanding Officer gave us the notice. This morning, at the break of dawn, our troop set out to the front lines. The air is heavy and solemn. Many of the older soldiers have already given up. The younger ones are thinking of doing the same. There are only a handful of us that have not lost the sliver of hope that we still have left. Even so, as I write this in the back of our transport truck, in the peaceful chill of the morning, I can't help but feel their dark depression.

My worry is not only for what will become of my regiment, but also for the whispered rumours that reach my ears. It seems Ron's friend, Harry, and his regiment were the last to go to the front lines. Suddenly, I'm not surprised our mother was so worried when Harry went missing and I'll bet a ridiculous sum of money that Harry's whale of an uncle is the reason he's here, even though he's not of age. Still, these dark rumours bring a new feeling of fear. It's whispered that none of the previous regiment survived. I pray this rumour is false, because I know Ginny's heart will break, if it's not. In fact, I'd say the heart of everyone in our family would crack painfully if they heard the silent whispers that I can. My heart did. And it only makes your absence that much more painful.

I started this journal to you, my brother, only days after you left us. I still miss your comforting presence after all this time. I have lost track of how many days, months, years, decades it seems, that it has been since I have seen the beautiful sight of home. I long for it's warm comfort. For the smell of our mother's fresh cooked meals, for the sound our father's passion for science, for the sweet taste of satisfaction, of a well played prank on Percy or Ron, for the sight of our mischievous, fiery little sister, for the touch of a warm, proud hand on my shoulder from Bill or Charlie. I long for the loving embrace of family. For your confident, comforting presence, my brother, for a time before war.

I envy you, brother, for the chance to see the family that I cannot. Even still, I wish you were here to watch my back. Like you always have.

Tomorrow, I hope to find the truth behind these, hopefully false rumours.

I pray I find what I'm looking for.

George.

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**Short, I know, but its supposed to be. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Idiots, 18th of April 1945

_**Prompt: "If you are reading this I may well be dead, for today I will claim my freedom and dignity. This trip has almost broken me..."**_

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18th of April 1945.

Gred,

_If you are reading this I may well be dead, for today I will claim my freedom and dignity. This trip has almost broken me..._ But I am very much alive at the moment so, don't worry. Harry was reading over my shoulder so I thought I'd give him a bit of a scare.

My prayers were answered, brother. We arrived at the base camp about three days ago to find Harry there waiting for us. He was the soul survivor of his regiment and he refused to take leave when he heard there was a Weasley coming in the relieving regiment. My entire troop has taken to switching between calling him "The Boy Who Lived" and "The Little Idiot". Harry absolutely hates it and he provides a lot of comedy relief when he gets worked up about it. Or when I goad him.

I honestly think, sometimes, that Harry sets himself up for certain situations, so that he and I can take our comrades minds off our current placement. Every time the troop bursts out laughing at something we've done, he gives me that tiny, quirky smile of his. You know the one he said he learnt to do when he didn't want the Dursleys to know he was laughing at them. That one. If he does set himself up, he does it well.

He told me yesterday that he was surprised and a little worried to see that I was the Weasley they told him about and that I was alone. Perceptive little git. When I told him what happened to you, he said he was even happier he made the decision to stay, even if he does have to put up with "my lot", as he calls them. I called him an idiot for being happy he stayed at all. He called me an idiot in general. We've since decided to be the idiots of the regiment together.

I'll be honest brother, I'm glad he stayed too. He's not you. He's not even a Weasley, either by blood or name. But he's a Weasley at heart and that's really what matters. He knows all my quirks, just like you do. He understands what I mean when my entire troop don't, simply because they haven't lived with me for, at least, five years. He's taken a weight off my shoulders I didn't even know was there. I feel lighter and many of the troops have said that I seem happier, now that he's here. Harry probably doesn't even know what he's done. Then again, he probably does, if that quirky little smile of his is any indication. As I said, perceptive little git.

This morning we were given the notice that the regiment would be leaving for the front lines in two days. All in army speak of course. I had Harry translate for me. I was called an idiot for my trouble. Then I made him promise that when he finally took leave, he would go to "The Burrow" first. I made him promise he'd go home and stay there. I think he's a little put out with me though. He wanted me to promise we'd go home together. I didn't. I couldn't. I know he understands why. He knows, just as much as you do, that if there's even the slightest chance the promise can be broken, I won't make it. Still doesn't keep him from being upset with though.

I'm scared brother. I have this horrible feeling that only one of us is coming home.

Still, I suppose everyone feels like that. We'll have to wait and see.

Feorge.

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**I wrote the beginning, then the end and _then _the middle. Because that's going to do me wonders in the English exam...**


	3. Home, 1st of May 1945

_**Prompt: "If you are reading this I may well be dead, for today I will claim my freedom and dignity. This trip has almost broken me..."**_

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Harry walked down the beaten towards a medium sized, comfortable looking cottage. He didn't notice the birds singing, the clear blue sky, the passing scenery or the sun making a rare appearance. His emotions were in turmoil, his mind was numb and his body was moving on instinct.

Harry didn't realise he had come to the front door of the cottage until his boots, scuffed as they were, hit off the small step in front of it. He glanced up at the cottage. This was his home away from workhouse. Since first meeting Ron and the Weasley family, they had always made him welcome. In fact, they always made him feel wanted and loved, like another son or brother. It was another reason he had come here first. His "good" uncle and the Dursleys would probably give him half an hour at best, to collect his meagre belongings and leave. Vernon Dursley had sent him off to war to fight and die and he most certainly wasn't going to let him return after surviving it, even as decorated as he was. He looked at the cottage again, taking it all in and committing it to memory. It near physically hurt when he realised how much he had missed this place.

Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door, a habit he never broke, no matter how many times told him it was his home as much as it was any of her children's home. A loud, feminine; "Coming. Hold on", most likely from the kitchen brought tears to Harry's eyes. The door opened and there stood the Weasley matriarch in all her domestic glory. Then, she froze, tears filling her eyes, before she began to lift a hand to his face. As if to see if the being standing in front of her was real. She brought it back to her chest, fearing that it really was a dream.

"Hi, " Harry spoke softly, hesitantly, as he greedily took in the sight of his mother figure.

"I-...I'm home".

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Molly Weasley just as greedily took in the sight of shy, quiet Harry Potter, standing on her porch, in his well-decorated army uniform. If she ever got her hands on Vernon Dursley, he would severely regret ever telling her that Harry had run away. Tears of joy spilled from her eyes as he stood there sheepishly, shifting from foot to foot. Then he said the words she had been longing to hear since a time shortly after Ron had brought Harry to meet her, as his newest friend.

"I-...I'm home".

She threw herself at the, now, quietly confident young man. She held him tightly in her arms, praying that this was not a dream, as she whispered through her tears;

"Welcome home, Harry".

The answering hug from Harry was all she needed to know that this was reality.

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In the warmth of 's arms, Harry let his tears fall. How could he not have missed this? After a moment, pulled away, but didn't relinquish her hold on him as she pulled him into the cottage.

"Arthur! Arthur, come quickly! Harry's come home" she cried, smiling through her tears.

A flurry of movement went through out the cottage, as the rest of the Weasley family came running. After a joyful cry of his name, Harry was surrounded by warmth. Arthur hugged him tight, with a quickly whispered;

"Glad to have you back".

Harry was then passed onto Ron, who gave him a quick hug before Ginny latched herself onto him. As Ron threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, Percy shook his hand exuberantly. Charlie, obviously visiting from Romania, clapped him on the back and Bill, probably making the daily visit from his own home, ruffled his hair.

Then Fred limped in, gently prying his little sister of him and putting a bit of space between them and the rest of the family.

"Come on, Fred. Don't hog him to yourself" argued Ron jovially.

Fred ignored him, choosing instead to clasp Harry's shoulders and hold him at arms length, as looked him in the eye.

"Harry..."Fred's silent question of _"Where is George?"_ was only evident to the two of them.

"Fred, I'm so sorry-" Harry began, but Fred cut across him.

"Do you have his journal?"

Harry wasn't surprised that Fred knew about it. It wasn't hard to guess that George would start a journal without his twin, if you knew him well and Fred and George always seem to have some kind of telepathic connection. That's why they were Gred and Feorge and such good pranksters. Harry was more surprised it took him so long to ask. As Harry reached into his inner coat pocket, Bill asked;

"Fred? Harry? What's going on?"

He, like Ron, was ignored as Fred plucked the journal form Harry's hands and flicked straight to the back page. There was silence as Fred the entry. Then his hands dropped as his shoulders slumped and he leaned against the closest wall for support. He shut his eyes tight against the pain. He already knew before Harry came. He'd felt it, he just didn't want to believe it.

"Harry?"

"Fred? Harry, dear? What's wrong?"

Ginny's hesitant voice and 's concern only served to snap the two young men out of their respective reverie. Fred stood straight moving away from the wall and Harry tried again to convey to Fred how much he wished George were here with them or, at the very least, instead of him.

"Fred, I'm sorry. I tried-"

Harry never got the chance as Fred pulled him roughly into a hug. In one hand, he held the journal. His other, the prosthetic, and the reason he hadn't been with his beloved twin, he pressed against Harry's back. Harry didn't move as the arms of one of his many brother figures held him in a hug. He didn't want to believe it and he almost didn't until Fred spoke;

"I know you tried, Harry. I know you did and I'm not going to lie and say I don't wish he were here or that I'm not relieved to see you alive and well. But George would probably find some way to make me regret it, if I didn't say that I am so relieved that you were with him when I wasn't. Please believe me, Harry. I'm grateful you were there and I'm happy to see you".

Dawning realisation began to spread over the rest of the family present, though they dared not to believe their disheartening fears. Harry was stunned, unable to move, think or feel.

"You made a promise to my brother, Harry. I intend to make sure you keep it, little brother," Fred whispered.

That was all it took for Harry to return Fred's hug. His hands fisted in the back of Fred's shirt and tremors shook Harry's lithe frame as he broke down into silent tears. The only noise he made, was his whispered mantra to Fred;

"I'm sorry. So sorry. I tried. I couldn't save him. I'm sorry..."

Fred held him tighter as his own tears began to fall, and the realisation finally settled over the rest of the family. George wasn't coming home. Bill dropped into the closest chair and put his head in his hands, feeling like he had somehow failed as a big brother. Charlie and Percy hung their heads in grief, but placed a hand on each of Bill's shoulders, silently giving him their support. Ron hugged Ginny close as she went into shock and Arthur held Molly, as she sobbed for the loss of one of her sons.

* * *

_1st of May 1945._

_I'm sorry, Fred. It looks like I'm not going to make it back home to you._

_Look after Harry for me, will you? Don't let him blame himself. You know how he is. He made me a promise, brother, so make sure he keeps it. You know how I feel about broken promises._

_See you in the distant future, I hope._

_Your brother, George._

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**My friend will probably scream at me for this, but that's what came into my head first and so that's how it developed. **

**If you want a happier ending though, let me know and I'll see what I can do... I'll probably post it as a seperate oneshot though. Anyway, let me know what you think!**_  
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